


let's make this house a habit

by chrome_dome



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Beta Read, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrome_dome/pseuds/chrome_dome
Summary: there are moments when the rest of the world falls away, moments where you and him could be the last two people in existence and it wouldn't matter.
Relationships: Chromedome/Rewind (Transformers)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	let's make this house a habit

**Author's Note:**

> title shamelessly stolen from the song "house a habit"
> 
> uhhhh what do you want, i'm gay and sappy.

You don't know why you do it, you have a theory that it probably has to do with all those mornings when you had to wake up alone, in a cold empty berth. You also suspect that your dreams might be a factor, the ones where you're desperately trying to save someone, but you're always too late by just a moment. Those are the nights you wake up sobbing and screaming, with the echo of a familiar touch lingering on your plating. The reason doesn't really matter so much though, Rewind doesn't seem to mind, and you spend enough time trying to pick your brain apart anyways.

He's right in front of you, tucked in a little ball right against the curve of your abdomen as you curl around him. You can tell from his venting that he's not yet asleep, but on the verge of it. You loathe to disrupt him but your processor has started providing you with every possible thing that could have gone wrong since the last time you got a good look at him. 

His spark could have started spontaneously guttering, one of the important pins deep in his processor could have blown out, or maybe he isn't really here at all, and this is one of those other dreams you have, the ones where you wake up missing someone, but the details of who crumble like ashes when you wake. 

You reach out and touch him, rest a hand on his plating for just a moment. You slide your hand down to his sleek abdominal plating and pull him to your side, so his plating is flush with yours. You curl around him, even more than you already were. He's warm and solid and real, and he doesn't poof away when you touch him. You stay like that for just a moment. 

Sometimes that's enough, sometimes your brain will let up and you'll drift off just like that. Not tonight though unfortunately. 

You uncurl from around him and sit up on the berth, criss-cross turbofox, with his back to you. He makes a sleepy questioning beep as you pull away from him, and your spark hitches at the sound. It's one of the many soft little noises that Rewind makes and you adore each and every one of them. This is one you've come to associate with peacefulness, with all the quiet moments where the two of you could be alone in the universe and it wouldn't matter a bit. 

The need for him to be okay has skyrocketed and you quickly run your hands over his back and side, checking for damage and feeling for the beat of his spark beneath his plating. You gently ease him out of the ball he's curled himself up into and carefully roll him onto his back, trying to disturb him as little as possible. 

His visor is dimly lit but you watch it turn a couple shades brighter and internally wince. Your nightmares wake him up enough, you shouldn't be keeping him from sleep now too. He just hums softly at you and relaxes his limbs to his sides. 

You have a bit of a ritual for how you do this, and you let your hands follow their servo memory. You lay both hands down on his abdomen and press down slightly, a last reassurance that he isn't going to break apart into an ephemeral mist of feelings, leaving you alone again. Your hands move to his shoulders, one on each, then run down his arms, tracing the smooth plating all the way down, assuring that everything is attached and in order. You pay attention to the warmth of the metal, and the way his plating feels when lightly pressed on, confirming that it has the slight springiness and malleability of a healthy bot, rather than the stiff and unnaturally cold feeling of a corpse. 

Your hands find his and you give them a quick squeeze. You also give into temptation, picking up one of his hands, and leaning over to press a quick kiss into his palm. Your optics flick up to meet his, and, though his visor is dim, you can tell that he's watching you. Even though you're the one keeping him up, you can tell he's got that one fond look of his, the one that's halfway between loving and sleepy. Yet again your spark seems to catch in your chest, it doesn't matter if this is your hundred thousandth time seeing that look, it feels like a new first each time. It's a quiet reassurance, so casual it doesn't need to be said, and all the more impactful for it. 

You tear your gaze away from his face to focus on his hips and legs, quickly running your eyes over them, from hip to toe, and making sure everything is in order, no crumpled plating or spilled energon. You place one hand over his spark and close your eyes, dedicating your whole attention to his sparkpulse, making sure it feels natural and close to his baseline. 

Finally you turn your attention to his helm. You quickly brush your fingers across it's surfaces, making sure the feeling of it hasn't changed, no new hollow or dense spots to indicate that anything might have gotten knocked out of alignment. Last but not least, you press two fingers under the back of his neck, just to make sure you don't feel any of the microscopic tears that are left behind by needles. 

You let out a breath that you forgot you had been holding. He's safe. He's safe, he's real, he's fine. Everything is okay. Everything is okay as long as he is. You let your hands fall back to rest in your lap. 

"Done?" His voice is low, in the whisper he uses in the moments approaching sleep. 

"Yeah." You can't help but to match his tone and whisper back. "Sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up." 

He rests a hand on one of your shins. "S'fine Domey. I've told you it doesn't bother me. Now get back here." He makes grabby hands at you. 

You smile back at him, more of a crinkling around your eyes than a movement of your lips, but you know he understands anyways. You lie down on your back and he responds by draping himself over you, like a small lanky blanket. 

His hands curl around the edges of your plating, and he hooks his knees under your hip bars, holding himself in place. You wrap your arms around him, one on the small of his back, one holding his tiny hand in your own, and your spark swells in its casing from the way he relaxes into your touch. 

His head is resting right above your spark chamber. "I can feel that you know. That thing your spark does when you're happy. I'm glad you're happy." From the way his words are slightly blurred around the edges, and how he nuzzles his face into you, you can tell he's close to sleep. 

You can't help the clicking hitch in your ventilation system when he says that. You want to hold him, and kiss him everywhere, and tell him how much you love him, but right now you want to sleep just slightly more. So instead you just squeeze him slightly closer, and trust that he knows what it means. 

**Author's Note:**

> yes i definitely reached this word count organically, don't worry about it. 
> 
> i might do like. a kinda follow-up piece for this so keep an eye out for that i guess?
> 
> as always, thank you for reading! feedback, questions, constructive criticism, and incomprehensible primordial screeching are all welcome!


End file.
